


Let Me Show You

by Make_It_Worse



Series: Brat Tamer [16]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Image, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Connor, Connor ties up Hank to prove a point, Dom Hank Anderson, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Hank Big, M/M, Minor Violence, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Power Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Prostate Massage, Role Reversal, Size Kink, Size Queen Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Sort Of, Top Hank Anderson, Trust, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make_It_Worse/pseuds/Make_It_Worse
Summary: “Hank? Wake up.” He blinks blearily, annoyed. It feels like he’s only just drifted off when Connor started tapping his shoulder.He blinks again and is instantly aware something is very, very wrong. He tries to reach for Connor in the dark and his arms catch at the wrists.“Connor,” his voice is dark and deeply displeased, “untie me right now.”A small light blinks into existence on their bedside table. Connor shivers as his fingertips glide away from his phone casting the dim light.“I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about this,” his hand rests on Hank’s chest and the bed dips beneath him when he comes to sit.“Connor.” Anderson says his name like a command and Connor's fingers flinch as if to comply before he clenches them closed.__This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags. It falls somewhere between them getting engaged and getting married. Not necessarily linear with the last part of the series.Part 16.I held a poll and body worship was the winner.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Brat Tamer [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472171
Comments: 21
Kudos: 182





	Let Me Show You

Anderson looks down on Reed’s unconscious form and mild amusement dances like delicate soap bubbles behind his eyes. He isn’t sure if he trusts himself to speak just yet, but he reaches out to wrap a strong, protective hand around Connor’s bicep. Not that his fiancé needs protecting at this moment, but he’d rather not have to explain a domestic incident to their boss.

“Connor, what the fuck?” Niles’ voice comes out shrill, but it lacks heat. Even he knew his boyfriend was being a giant ass. He’d been in the middle of admonishing him when Connor’s fist had come flying out of his peripheral, knocking Gavin clean out of his seat.

He positively hulked as much as someone of his stature could manage. Niles hadn’t attempted to rise to deal with him; he left that task up to Anderson.

Anderson was thankful his beard could hide his slight grin. He hadn’t minded Gavin’s attempts to rile him up. He knew Reed’s type and lowbrow banter wasn’t beneath Anderson. He was somewhat enjoying it even if Reed’s barbs had been largely at his expense, poking fun at the slight gut he’d grown since retiring from the force.

It was when he started in on Anderson’s age, intimating that he was too old to keep up with Connor, that Connor had calmly pushed back his chair, walked around the table, and decked the man straight across the jaw.

Shaking his hand, Connor glares down at Reed while answering his brother’s question, “I warned him.”

Gavin groans into a sit, rubbing at his reddening jaw, “He did.”

The statement catches both siblings off guard, but Anderson isn’t all that surprised. Connor had been clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any more trash talk. His exact words being _One more word about my fiancé, and I will punch you in the mouth_.

Anderson knew Gavin’s comments weren’t serious; he’d lobbed back his own insults in short order and Gavin had taken them in stride. With the wedding looming in the near future, Connor had no patience for men of Gavin’s ilk. He already disliked the man and only agreed to the dinner at Niles’ persistent nagging that he would like Reed if he gave him half a chance.

Connor rubs at his knuckles and a frown tugs on the corners of Anderson’s mouth. They’re swelling slightly and turning a dusky purplish red. Rising from his chair, Anderson gives a still-flabbergasted Niles a slight bow.

“Thank you for inviting us to dinner, but I believe we’ve worn out our welcome.” He turns and inclines his head at Reed on the ground, “A pleasure to meet you, Garron. The lasagna was excellent.” Niles nods mutely, finally spurred into action. He kneels by his ill-mannered, foolhardy boyfriend as Anderson guides Connor to his coat.

He mutters darkly the entire ride home while Anderson runs his thumb idly over Connor’s injured hand. On Connor’s third mumbled replay of the evening, he pauses to peer at Anderson.

Suspicion sticks to his words like sap from a tree, “You know his name is Gavin, correct? You called him Garron.”

Anderson gives Connor’s hand a conspiratorial squeeze, “Of course I do. I see no reason to let _him_ know that. He’s a puffed-up peacock; he could stand to have a plume or two shorn down.”

Connor grins and his expression makes it clear it’s in spite of his dour mood. Anderson’s eyes cut across to him then back to the road, “He doesn’t strike me as the litigious type, but you should probably avoid punching people in the face as a means to solve your disputes.”

Connor snorts out a sound of pure disagreement and satisfaction swims across his lips, “Bet he keeps his fat mouth shut next time I see him.”

Anderson doesn’t bother pressing the issue. Connor’s in a mood and the words would be a waste until he was in a more amenable frame of mind.

Besides, Anderson has Connor’s damaged hand to attend to before digging into the meat of the altercation. Gavin had struck a nerve and it was worth having a conversation. Connor lets him clean and bandage his hand with minimal fuss. Adrenaline is still fueling him, but Anderson knows it will ache in the morning if they don’t ice it sooner rather than later.

Resting the gelatinous icepack across Connor’s knuckles, he nearly fumbles it when Connor asks quietly, “Why did you let him talk to you like that?”

“What?” It comes out dumb and loud.

“Reed. I’ve never seen…you’ve never…” he runs a hand over his face, trying to force his thoughts into coherent sentences, “You don’t tolerate disrespect. Ever. You let Reed spew his trash without blinking. Why?”

“He wasn’t serious, Connor. He’s all bark and no bite. It didn’t upset me.” Anderson gives his hand a little reassuring squeeze but Connor doesn’t return the pressure.

He frowns at the floor, “But it upset me.” Anderson’s lips droop as an unpleasant sensation slithers under his tongue.

Connor lifts his gaze to meet Anderson’s eyes, “You knew it was bothering me. Why did you let him keep coming at you like that?”

Anderson couldn’t be more uncomfortable than if he were sitting on a cactus eating staples. He doesn’t have a simple answer to the question and it’s not a lens he’d ever considered viewing the situation through. He tries to come up with a response that will halt this line of questioning, but none of his answers seem to please Connor.

Shelving the conversation for the night, Anderson suggests they talk about it in the morning. Maybe more time and distance from the dinner will give him better insight. The words sound hollow, even to him. Connor frowns but nods. He kisses Anderson’s cheek before rolling to his side. Anderson tosses and turns for what feels like hours, not sure why he’s having a hard time finding sleep.

“Hank? Wake up.” He blinks blearily, annoyed. It feels like he’s only just drifted off when Connor started tapping his shoulder.

He blinks again and is instantly aware something is very, very wrong. He tries to reach for Connor in the dark and his arms catch at the wrists.

“Connor,” his voice is dark and deeply displeased, “untie me right now.”

A small light blinks into existence on their bedside table. Connor shivers as his fingertips glide away from his phone casting the dim light.

“I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about this,” his hand rests on Hank’s chest and the bed dips beneath him when he comes to sit.

“Connor.” Anderson says his name like a command and Connor's fingers flinch as if to comply before he clenches them closed.

“Just hear me out. If you don’t…I’ll untie you if you don’t like what I’m proposing, ok?” Irritation floods Anderson’s mouth and he has to bite back a snarl when Connor asks quietly, “Don’t you trust me?”

It’s a gut check and distinctly unfair. Of course, Anderson trusts Connor. Connor proves his own trust in Anderson’s judgment while taking him apart on a regular basis. It would be cold and callous to say otherwise.

He tries to adjust himself as best he can, “Well, Connor. You have my attention.” There is an edge of steel to his voice and Connor can’t quite meet his gaze.

“Tonight, at dinner. Reed had a lot of things to say. About your age, but mostly your…your physique.” Anderson watches him, waiting for some kind of explanation as to why Reed being a mouthy jackass resulted in him tied up in his own damn bed.

Connor must sense his mounting irritation because he rushes on, “I asked why you let him speak to you like that. You didn’t have an answer. Something’s been bothering me, though. Keeping me up. I think I’ve figured it out.”

Connor licks his lips and Anderson can tell he’s nervous about whatever he has to say next, “You let those comments slide when you usually wouldn’t. I think you let it go because some part of you believes him.”

Anderson snorts, but a small, traitorous fragment of his brain nods. Whether Connor notices or not, he can’t be sure.

“I used to think you were embarrassed that I’m so much younger. It hurt, but I thought…in time…” he shakes his head, “I realized tonight you’re worried that your age, your appearance, are problems. So you let Reed shoot off at the mouth. You didn’t defend yourself because you agreed with him.”

Anderson stares at him without seeing him. It’s a bitter truth he didn’t want to voice. He hadn’t understood what Connor found so appealing about him when they first started sleeping together. He didn’t understand what made Connor keep seeking him out, how he’d convinced Connor to love him. He’d accepted that it was the truth. He doesn’t deny that Connor’s affection and attraction are genuine. Even so, there is a part of him that doesn’t understand it.

He tries to rise and the restraints around his wrists bite into his skin. They aren’t too tight, but they are exceedingly annoying. He huffs out a frustrated sound and Connor’s fingers dance down his cheek as he straddles his waist.

“Let me love you,” the dark room tries to swallow the words, but Anderson hears them as clearly as if Connor had spoken into a microphone. “Let me show you,” he punctuates the sentence with a kiss and Anderson groans when Connor rocks their hips together.

Connor’s kiss is slow and sweet like Anderson is a cornered bull who might gore him at any moment. He’s not far off from the truth. He’d likely hurt himself in the process, but Anderson’s fairly certain he could break his way out of the restraints if he truly had to.

Connor’s touch is just as soft. His fingers trail down one of Anderson’s outstretched arms, dipping into the crook of his elbow. He shivers as if Connor were trailing feathers across his skin. It’s intimate in a way they rarely explore. Connor’s palm cups at his chest, groping at the meat of it. This part of his body hasn’t gone soft with time yet. It isn’t as firm as it had been once upon a time, but it doesn’t give like the curve of his stomach does.

Connor’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and it distracts Anderson from his hand steadily moving south. He’s smart enough to know he needs to work Anderson up to it before flat out palming the swell of his gut. He glides over it, reaching down to finish what his hips had started. His tongue is as hot in Anderson’s mouth as the fingers wrapped around Anderson’s cock. Anderson isn’t as vocal as Connor, but his hands flex and grip as if longing to tug at Connor’s hair.

Connor sets a languid pace, pumping Anderson’s shaft almost lazily until it consumes all thought. Connor’s lips move to the corner of Anderson’s mouth before peppering down his jaw to suck at the base of his throat. His tongue laves a path down to Anderson’s collarbone before Anderson realizes Connor’s intent. His dick strains in anticipation of bucking into the warm heat of Connor’s mouth.

Connor’s lips latch around one ruddy, puffy nipple and his teeth graze across the delicate tip. Anderson jerks in surprise, and scowls at Connor in warning. Connor grins at him and repeats the motion. A sharp sensation zings across Anderson’s hips as Connor takes the girthy weight of his cock in hand once more. It’s the only thing that stops Anderson from snapping at him.

Connor kisses at the taut stretch of Anderson’s chest an inch or so to the left of his nipple before murmuring, “Indulge me.”

A low feral sound rumbles up Anderson’s throat and Connor surges to nuzzle at the crook of his neck and shoulder, “Please, sir?”

The request comes out sweeter than honeysuckle and Anderson knows he’s doomed. It’s just a matter of time before Connor figures out how much power he has. Anderson would steal the moon if it would make Connor smile.

“Fine.” It comes out flat and resigned. Connor gives his dick a little squeeze.

“Thank you,” the words whisper across his skin in a sensual dance before Connor’s tongue goes to work. Although not overly sensitive, there is something intimate in how much attention Connor pays to Anderson’s chest and tongue-stiffened nipples. He nibbles in places as if trying to consume Anderson in hungry bites.

Anderson knows Connor’s always had a thing for how broad he is across the torso. He hadn’t realized it was to quite this extent.

“Why are you doing this?” He can’t help but ask the question and Connor relinquishes the grip his lips have on the fleshier part of Anderson’s right pec.

“Because I love all of you.” He rolls his hips and bites his lip as heat arcs through them in mutual pleasure. Anderson thinks that may be all the explanation he gets when Connor’s eyes drift closed and he appears lost in sensation. His hips undulate as his fingers grope greedily at Anderson’s chest.

Just before Anderson repeats the question, his eyes crack open, riddled with lust, “You’re so big. My hands can’t span across you.” His fingers spread wide to prove the point. “Your hand can wrap clear around my bicep. Your size is seductive. Intimidating. You could hurt me if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want to.” Anderson frowns up at Connor, not quite following.

“I know,” he exhales and his hips ripple, chasing exquisite ecstasy. His head droops under the weight of pleasure as he continues, “I don’t want you to hurt me. I want you to _destroy me_.”

And fuck if that doesn’t sound appealing.

With a final kitten lick across a beaded nipple, Connor sinks down until his face rests on Anderson’s hip. He watches his fingers squeeze Anderson’s formidable length, sighing in anticipation. Anderson can’t see Connor’s eyes restrained as he is, but he knows that sound. Connor wants him, badly. Anderson goes rigid when Connor leans forward to press a kiss to the swell of his stomach. His hand never falters in its stroking.

“You don’t understand,” Connor exhales the words before nosing a few inches to the right and south of Anderson’s belly button. “When I manage to swallow you whole and my nose bumps right here?” He touches Anderson’s gut in a particular spot. It’s low and swathed in hair a scant inch above the base of his dick; Anderson knows it by heart already.

“Or when you bend me in half and your stomach traps my dick in place?” Anderson knows the feeling well and tries not to think too hard about it most days. He hadn’t realized these things were _desirable_ to Connor.

Connor’s tone goes soft, snagging at Anderson’s attention, “Or when you hold me after and this curve fits against my spine like a secret puzzle between us?” Connor’s fingers reach up between Anderson’s pecs and drift over his belly down to the base of his cock as he speaks. His fingers trail through a line of hair in stark contrast to Connor’s own pale torso. An aggressive sound reverberates from deep in his gut when Connor’s fingers take his length in hand once more.

“You have no idea what your body does to me. Seeing you? Knowing what’s you’re hiding underneath your clothes?” Connor’s mouth hovers over the tip of Anderson’s rigid, leaking cock and he doesn’t make him wait. Lips shiny with saliva swallow the plump head of Anderson’s dick as if it’s a delicious treat Connor’s been aching to devour. He moans around the tip and the vibrations tremble across Anderson’s skin.

Connor’s hands never cease their stroking as he relinquishes the head with a filthy pop. His eyes glitter in the dark and he squeezes Anderson’s shaft to underscore his meaning, “Everything about you is _big_ , sir. I love it. Let me show you.”

Anderson has no time to contemplate the repeated sentiment before Connor’s mouth is on him again. His head bobs slowly as if savoring the action. He tries to fight the urge to thrust up into Connor’s face but his hips jerk in half-aborted motions. Connor looms over him, his fingers resting on the lock that will release Anderson’s restraints.

He meets Anderson’s gaze before freeing him, whispering a request like it’s his dearest wish, “Fuck my face, sir. I want to feel you in my throat.”

The instant his hands are unrestricted, Anderson’s fingers are in Connor’s hair. He’d anticipated Anderson forcing him back down with frantic need. His scalp tugs as Anderson applies resistance, pulling Connor’s face toward his instead.

His breathing is harsh and Connor’s fairly certain his throat is about to pay the price for tying up his fiancé; he’ll take whatever kisses he can get, unexpected or otherwise.

The kiss is slow but demanding. Anderson claims Connor’s mouth, fisting his hair. He pulls Connor back with a gentle tug that belies the gravel in his voice, “On your knees. I’m going to fuck your face proper.”

Connor swallows thickly, but he doesn’t need telling twice. His slips off the end of their bed, taking a pillow for his knees. Anderson taps his lips with the tip of his cock, seeking entrance.

He’s poised to sink in slow and deep when he grips at one of Connor’s wrists, “Squeeze my leg twice if you need me to stop.”

Connor’s tongue darts out to run a wet stripe along the bottom of Anderson’s dick, but he wraps his hands around the back of Anderson’s thick thighs. Cheeky, obedient brat. Anderson stares when Connor leans to one side to kiss at the thin, silvery lines that trace up his hip. He never cared for the marks himself but Connor presses his lips to them as if Anderson’s body is a work of art.

Anderson has done this dozens of times. He knows how fast he can go before Connor will wretch. He knows how long it takes Connor to build up to taking his entire shaft. He’s about to sink between Connor’s open lips when something clatters to the floor. It buzzes noisily until Connor kills it with a remote that lives in their bedside table. His breathy, wanton manner suddenly makes much more sense.

“You’ve had that in you this entire time?” Approval drips from his tongue and Connor nods, leaning forward to lick at the tip of Anderson’s dick. It was one of Anderson’s favorite things, to tease Connor until he fell apart, begging for Anderson to fuck him.

He drives the head of his cock into Connor’s waiting mouth, plunging deeper with each thrust as he growls, “I’m going to wreck you.” Connor groans in needy anticipation. Drool runs down his chin and throat and his eyes shine with heavy desire.

When Connor’s nose brushes against the swell of his gut, his eyes lock with Anderson’s. He knows that look. Connor’s throat trembles in presage of his gag suppression limits and Anderson relents. It hadn’t occurred to him that the soft parts of him had any sort of effect on Connor at all. He wasn’t insecure about it so much as not thrilled by the changes his body went through after retiring from the force. He couldn’t work out as he once had.

Connor throwing his heaviest of bedroom eyes at him because his nose was nuzzling the gentle swell of his stomach is shocking. He’d thought he’d ferreted out most of Connor’s desires and kinks. Connor kneels, staring up at Anderson like a starving man about to feast.

Anderson’s fingers slip under Connor’s chin, thumbing at the drooling mess around his mouth. He releases him in favor of patting the bed, “On your back.”

He knew Connor wouldn’t need much prep after revealing the vibrator he’d been concealing. Still, Anderson takes his time. Connor’s hips rest at the edge of their bed and Anderson shoulders his legs. Slick fingers test Connor’s readiness before pressing relentlessly at the tight bundle that makes Connor mewl and writhe.

“You are perfect,” Anderson murmurs and Connor’s eyes open into a heated, hooded stare. “A terror,” Anderson amends, “but perfect. And mine.” Anderson presses forward to sink in with shallow thrusts. He batters at Connor until he screams and fists his fingers into the bedding.

Connor’s arm moves frantically, jacking himself in time with Anderson’s thrusts. Anderson grips his wrist tightly, pulling his hand away and pressing it into the mattress above Connor’s head. His stomach droops down and Connor’s erection strains against it.

Knowing what he does now, Anderson intends to take full advantage of Connor’s weaknesses. He rests more of his bulk than usual against Connor as his thrusts slow. The pace is agony and Connor whimpers his pleas for more. Anderson’s broad torso pins Connor to the bed as he saws against his prostate. The thick head works in and out of Connor’s body, assaulting the pleasure points inside him as his stomach pins Connor’s dick against his own belly. Anderson watches, mesmerized, as Connor unravels.

He fucks him through it, his voice a low rumble, “Scream like you mean it, boy.” Connor shrieks out an overwrought _SIR!_ as the last weak dribbles of come leak between them. His spent dick slips wetly in the mess and Anderson rips a high-pitched sound from Connor’s throat with a particularly brutal thrust. Buried to the hilt, he pumps his release deep inside as he collapses on Connor’s smaller frame. He’s less inclined to be as careful about holding back his weight and he’s rewarded with Connor’s arms pulling him closer, encouraging him to relax entirely.

“You’re so heavy,” Connor sighs the words and his arms squeeze around Anderson’s torso, “It’s nice.”

Anderson knows they’ll regret it if they don’t clean up, but Connor clings to him content to lie where they are. Anderson laughs through his nose, gently unwinding Connor’s limbs from around him.

Once decently clean and curled up in the dark, Anderson holds him a little tighter.

“Thank you for telling me. Showing me,” the words get lost in the tangle of Connor’s curls but Connor squeezes his hand in acknowledgment.

“I still don’t think you believe me,” Connor says quietly, “but I could look at you all day. Touch you everywhere.” Anderson flushes in the dark, not used to exposing any insecurity no matter how slight.

He clears his throat, pulling Connor close, “I’ll have to take your word for it then.”

Connor nuzzles more firmly against him, “You better.” It comes out a moody, facetious grumble and Anderson chuckles. He’s nearly asleep when a thought occurs to him.

“Connor?” Connor murmurs a sleepy reply and Anderson taps him on the nose, “If you ever tie me up in my sleep again, I will get out the machine and let it massage your prostate until you cry—understood?” He’s only being half-serious, but he expects Connor to nod or possibly mumble an apology.

He does not expect him to grope at him with a sassy, “Don’t tempt me, sir.”

This brat is going to be the death of him, he’s certain.

Connor’s hand comes to rest on his stomach, halting Anderson’s thoughts. For once, Anderson lets it stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WorseMake).


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